The Advocate

N3rf Th!s

Joe Stevens takes a casual puff of his cigarette as he nurses a cup of lukewarm coffee from within his black El Camino.  The salty night air filled his nostrils as he breathed in the aroma of his cafinated beverage, anything to keep himself awake.

Joe began wondering if his tip was a wild goose chase.  He'd been staking out the LAN club "N3rf Th!s" for the past two weeks.   Would Quantum Breaker really hang out in a high-end place like this, where he would be easily noticed?

A hunched over man with a long coat and a fedora kept his hands in his pockets as he ducked into an alley.  Joe paid close attention as a harsh metal-on-metal knocking echo gave Joe the confirmation he needed.  The guest of honor had arrived.

"About time I joined the party," Joe thought aloud before tilting back the last of his coffee.  He exited his ride and dragged the last of his cigarette before flicking it away and making his way into the club.

The sound of computer games and thumping house music rang in Joe's ears as he scanned the scenery.  Plenty of gamers were fixated on the latest online game while the dance floor glimmers with lights and pixelated iconic figures, but it was the bar Joe was interested in; he spotted the tall figure keeping to himself and a bottle of whiskey as he poured multiple shots for himself.

Choosing discretion, he sat five seats down and watched the metallic fingers gingerly grab a shot glass.  Within the span of a few seconds the gent had downed five shots.

"Cheers, bud!" Joe held a bottle of beer up to salute, but the figure ignored him as he poured another round for himself.

"Best you leave him to his drinking," the young bartender remarked, "or you'll likely get your brain scrambled."

Joe ignores the bartender's warning and strolls over to the mysterious figure before asking in a hushed voice.  "Are you Quantum Breaker?"

"Who wants to know?" the man hisses before downing his tenth shot. 

Joe reaches out for a handshake.  "My name is Joe Stevens, and I know of a boy who is literally dying to meet you."

At that point the mysterious man stands up and corrects his posture, towering over Joe with a height of at least 7 feet, and removes his fedora to expose a glass dome encasing a brain thumping rhythmically. 

He stares viciously into Joe's eyes.  "Explain yourself."

Which Joe sarcastically asks, "what, can't you read my mind?"

Quantum Breaker snaps at Joe, breaking a shot glass in his metallic fist.  "You're lucky the alcohol kicked in or you'd be a mental patient right now."

Joe knew he was pressing his luck, but he kept going.  "So, what, alcohol messes with your mental powers?"

The two stare at each other for a few moments, the people nearby pausing to observe, before Quantum Breaker places his fedora back on his head.  A purple aura jolts from his person and expands over the people, who mindlessly resume their previous activities. "As you can see I still can use my powers, it's just harder in this state. Now what's this about a kid literally dying to meet me?"

Joe clears his throat before taking a seat next to his prospective client. "There's a terminal boy at the hospital with brain cancer.  They wanted to meet with you before his time was up."

Shots are poured once more, the silence between them more deafening than the music.

"You're one of those 'Heroes for Hope' lackeys, aren't you? Long way from home..."

Joe quickly interrupts "But will you do it?"

Quantum Breaker glances over at Joe before downing three shots.  "How do I know Every Man won't show up and spoil your plan?"

Joe sighs before looking at the counter, noticing Quantum Breaker had the last shot covered by his metal hand.  "I'll handle Every Man.  Please...  Trust me."

Quantum Breaker slides the shot towards Joe's side and pulls back his hand.  "If this is a trick...  No hero alive will save you from what I'll do to you.  I'll call your agency tomorrow morning."

Joe eyes the shot, smiles and toasts to the bartender before leaning against the counter and knocking the drink back.

The bartender loses his smile as he glances at the whiskey bottle. "$80 for the bottle.  Cash or card?"

Joe quickly turns around, his eyes wide at the realization; even when intoxicated the "villain" was all brain.